


Whole of the moon

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: But he doesnt stick around, Future Fic, Gallavich Endgame, Leftovers AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Reaping AU, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Yes Trevor is in this fic, major angst, no one is actually dead, nothing is what you think it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: July 17th, 2023.That is the day half of the world's population disappeared in what people have deemed "The Reaping." There is no scientific explanation for it, and the religious groups of the world are chanting 'divine wrath.' Ian Gallagher just calls it the worst day of his life. It's been 6 years since his husband and most of his family have vanished, and he's just trying to pick up the pieces as best he can. But Liam, now 19 and determined to find an answer as to what happened that day, causes Ian to start to believe something he had hoped for since that day. That everyone is out there alive, somewhere. But where?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	Whole of the moon

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys. This is going to be a weird one. I have always wanted to write a supernatural type fic for Gallavich and this one has been rolling around in my mind for some time. This fic is based loosely on the show "The Leftovers" but if you haven't seen it, it won't matter. If you have, don't worry, it doesn't follow the writing of that show hardly at all. Just the concept. That being said, here are some bullet points before you start reading:
> 
> *Yes, Trevor is in this fic. But he doesn't play too big of a role, and he doesn't stick around for the end. 
> 
> * There IS a character death in this. It is NOT Mickey or Ian. Be warned. 
> 
> * This is a future fic and everyone is older. Liam is 19. Frannie is 13. Freddie is 9. 
> 
> * This one will hurt. There is a lot of sadness in this fic. But there is a happy ending, I promise. I'd never do that to our boys. 
> 
> All that being said, I hope you give this fic a shot, and you enjoy it!
> 
> As always, COMMENTS ARE LOVE.

**"We never truly get over a loss, but we can move forward and evolve from it.”**

Everything can change in a second. 

They always say that, but you never really know; you never really feel what that all could mean until it happens to you. How one second you are smiling, laughing, and the world seems so big and endless. That your life seems so infinite; like nothing can touch the bubble you have built around yourself and the happiness it took so long to obtain. You had worked so hard for that little slice of perfection. But it was ripped away as soon as you could grip it in your hand. It was like a cruel joke. Like the universe had always been working against you and the second you had the tiniest glimpse into a normal, safe life, it gets ripped from you. And you’re left with just memories and as time passes you wonder if it was all a dream to begin with. That none of it ever happened; that you never really had him. That you made up the few years of blissful marriage and the home and safety you had built with him. Your life has changed so much since it happened, that you almost don’t remember your life before. 

It’s been six years. Frannie is thirteen now. Liam is nineteen. And Freddie would have been nine. 

A lot of things would have been. 

Half of the world's population. Gone in a second. 

Men. Woman. Children. Mother’s. Father’s. Daughter’s. Son’s. Wives. 

Husbands. 

One second, you’re pouring coffee into a mug; light banter in the morning routine; and the next second, the kitchen is empty. The chair he had been sitting in, empty. And a shattered mug of coffee on the floor where he should be. 

It’s been six years and there is still no real explanation why. No scientist could give a valid hypothesis. There was no scientific reason to be found. There were thousands of theories. Chemical warfare. Aliens. Environmental catastrophe. But it’s not like half the people in the world just dropped dead. They were just gone. Religious fanatics had a field day. Armageddon, they chanted. Divine wrath. God’s will. Now they just call it the reaping. 

You call it ‘then.’ 

You spend the first 2 years manic; running around taking as many drugs as you could get your hands on and getting drunk day in and day out with Lip. Then the depths of depression hit where you didn’t get out of bed for weeks. Nearly two years you lived in that cycle until one day you lost Lip too. There was no instant disappearance this time. It wasn’t like he was there and then just not there. 

Liver failure. 

Due to alcoholism. 

It was slow. Painful. 

And it woke you the fuck up. 

You only had Frannie and Liam left. V was still next door with the twins. Trying her best to keep living. The bar was still there. You figure nothing could make the Alibi ever disappear. But she was there the day when suddenly the bar stools were just empty. Customers; people who had become friends over the years; just gone. Both you and her had lost so much. She never moved on. She had the girls, but she had never found anyone else. She didn’t want to. She didn’t need to. Kev was it for her. She had stopped hoping after year 4 that he would come back. That all of this was some kind of test; her faith in God still intact; but she was stronger than you ever could be. Because even though you had lost the love of your life, more times than you could count now; you were still human. Physical touch your love language; and you held out as long as you could. 

After year three, you just fucked. Found a willing participant and got your rocks off whenever you felt the urge. You also got to be an EMT again. When the world loses half its population, people stop caring about your mental state. As long as you knew CPR, it didn’t matter how much Lithium you took to keep going to stop the nightmares. You were looked at weird if you weren't on some sort of pill to forget. The world had moved on. It took a while; people were in disarray. Lost. But for once the government stood up and actually thought about the people for once; they knew they could be overthrown with less people than with more. It’s a tale as old as time. So, it was a long slow process, but eventually the world went back to normal. As normal as it could, considering. 

There were still movements. Some religious. Some human rights. There wasn’t a need for so many now; for some reason racism and homophobia and terrorism has gone down considerably. Probably because people didn’t see the point anymore. You wouldn’t say there was peace on earth; that’s a fairy tale and this world is far from that; but the world seemed calmer. Sadder. Quiet in an eerie sense. People still got married. Had children. For the first year, when a new baby was born into the US, they broadcast it. Like they had just rediscovered an extinct species. Maybe they were. It felt like it sometimes. 

So, in the fourth year after you had taken back control of your life, as much of it that was left, and started finally help Liam raise Frannie, the knock on the door by a familiar face was welcoming. There was obviously history with them; some not good; but there weren't many people left that you could say you knew intimately. Someone you could say you cared about and still be able to touch them. It was a bad idea. They both knew it. But you both still fell into it, head and heart first; and clung to each other like a lifeline. 

Trevor had lost everyone. He knew coming into this what you had before him. The life and love you had experienced. He knew he could never compare to that. But being alone was worse. He knew his place. He knew he was a replacement. But you both still fell asleep in each other’s arms night after night for years; something tangible and always afraid you both would wake in the morning and the other would be gone too. Like a snap of the fingers. So quick. So permanent. So unfair. 

You both know how much there is to lose now. You knew before how easily it was to lose Mickey. You had lost him so many times before. But you got lazy. You got happy. You both got comfortable. And once Terry was dead, there was no reason to be afraid anymore. There were still fights; some bloody because it was just who you two were; but you two had settled on forever. And you were fools to believe you would have it. 

You were angry for so long. You still are. One morning, Trevor came downstairs wearing one of Mickey’s shirts and you screamed and smashed plates and glasses and scratched up your own arms in a fit of manic anger and sadness. You and him don’t talk about that day. And you made sure to pack Mickey’s things away to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. Trevor doesn’t know that Ian has one of Mickey’s shirts that he screams into in the bathroom with the shower running in the background so no one can hear him. He doesn’t know that he stills looks for Mickey in crowds of people. But Trevor knows never to sit in Mickey’s seat at the kitchen table. He knows not to use a certain mug in the cabinet. Or glass. He knows not to bring donuts into the house ever. And they all know; Liam and Frannie and V included; to never mention Mickey’s name. 

You know it's not a good coping mechanism. You know you’re supposed to remember. You’re supposed to talk about the people you lost so that their memory stays alive. But the thing is; you say those things about people who are dead. And as many theories and conspiracies out there of what actually took place that day; you have your own too. You know they aren't dead. You’d know if Mickey was dead. It’s how you knew Mickey was alive all those years ago in Mexico. There is a connection between you two and can't be explained with science or religion or chemistry or whatever else people like to believe love is. It’s lunacy. It’s cosmic. It’s an electric current between two bodies and minds and hearts that runs deep into your blood and the molecules that make up a human body. Some people call it soul mates. Some call it meant to be. 

You just call it love. 

You call it marriage. 

You call it years of knowing a person in ways you never thought you could. Maybe it's your bi-polar. Maybe it’s the shitty neighborhood you grew up in. Maybe it is aliens. You may never know. All you do know is that Mickey is out there, somewhere. Stuck in between worlds. In some alternate universe. Purgatory. Somewhere. But he’s not dead. You’d be able to feel that. 

Liam has grown into a force of nature. Always the strongest of the Gallagher’s, in your opinion, has followed in the genius footsteps of Lip and is well on his way of earning a degree in bio-chemistry. He works part time at Lab, mostly just pushing paperwork, but Ian knows it's because Liam is dead set on figuring out what happened that day. What happened to all those people? Where they are. Why it happened. You had given up years ago trying to figure it out. But Liam never did. He doesn’t talk much about it, but you know. You two are really all you have left of the before; Frannie being just young enough to only have the good parts of her mother and uncles. But it fucked her up. How could it not? She rebels; never adheres to the curfew you and Liam try to set for her. She smokes; and you know it's something you should deter her from, but you were smoking at 13 and she is a Gallagher after all. But she does go to school and her grades are decent and the point of the matter is, she’s doing the best with what’s she’s got. Aren’t they all? 

Life is a shit show in the South Side anyway. But after that day, the universe laughed and piled even more shit on them. They all live their lives and go through the motions but there is a sadness in the air; there is a sadness over the whole world; and people just keep shuffling their feet day to day. It keeps the world spinning, even when you wish it wouldn’t. You remember watching a space launch last year. The first since it happened. Trying to send cameras and data finders onto other planets. And you remember laughing. Because you know they are trying to find something. Find them. But you know and they know no one is there. But they have to act like someone is still trying to figure it out, like one day the answer is just going to appear like we all should have known to begin with. 

You don’t have any answers. It hurts your bi-polar brain to even think about it anymore. You close your eyes and picture his face and you can still hear his laughter in your head and your chest hurts so bad you think it might just explode one day. But it won't. You won't ever leave this hell. Because the universe or God or Satan or whatever the hell it is that keeps this fucking planet turning has a sick sense of humor and you won't ever be able to leave. It would have been too easy for you both to have just gone. Because you both just keep getting ripped away from one another and if you were smart, you’d realize maybe you weren't meant to be, but you were never the smart one, he was, you just can't bring yourself to believe that is true. 

You spent a lot of time wondering what it all means. Realizing how small and insignificant you are. How you are just a blip in a must larger plan, even though you don’t know what that plan is. It has fucked with your mental health even more than normal and even though you've got your shit together; job, meds, family, Trevor; you know you're not okay. They all know you're not okay. Because they aren't okay. No one will ever be okay. And that is just the way the world is now. 

The world is different now. You're different now. There is a hardness and emptiness to you now where softness and hope used to be. You live your life now to die, hoping whatever is on the other side, if there is anything, Mickey will be waiting for you. It comforts you in an odd way, even though you are dead set on the fact that Mickey isn't dead. None of them are. You aren't exactly sure where they are, but you know its somewhere. 

It’s a thought that keeps you up at 2AM and you wander downstairs for a glass of water to find Liam sitting at the table. In Mickey’s chair. You freeze on the bottom step and he looks up at you, expression unreadable. You feel the anger course through you. The sadness. The tears immediately threatening to escape. You swallow it down. He doesn’t deserve any of those emotions. He has his own buried deep inside him. Ones he doesn’t let anyone see. Liam has always been the strongest. The smartest. He isn't sitting there to hurt anyone. To hurt you. He’s sitting there because he’s sad too. He remembers, just like you do. But never talks about it. You both never talk about it. 

“What are you doing up?” You finally ask, voice betraying you with quivers. 

“Finding answers.” Liam answers quietly. 

You finally step down into the kitchen and hover at the other end of the table. You see books and papers and scribbles in notepads spread out all over the table in front of him. “To what?” 

“You know what.” He doesn’t look up. 

“Liam...” 

“I didn’t give up. You all just gave up. Accepted everything.” 

“I haven't accepted anything. What was I supposed to? Drink myself to death like Lip?” Ian slams his hand down on the table but Liam doesn’t even flinch. 

“You moved on.” 

“I haven't moved on.” 

“Then who is in your bed then? A fucking doll?” Liam’s eyes blaze with anger. 

“So, because I’m lonely, that means I’ve moved on? Forgotten?” 

“You packed everything away. Like they never even existed.” 

“It was too hard, Liam! I couldn’t look at all that shit everyday...” 

“IT WASN'T YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE!” Liam screams. 

You place your hands on the table and double over, sobs finally escaping through your body. You can't remember the last time you cried. It might have been years. You scream, a lot. But you don’t cry. Not like this. Not this uncontrollable sadness of tears that now are flowing from your eyes and causing you to shake and bang your fists against the old wooden table. Liam is silent the whole time during your breakdown and you don’t know how long it lasts, but when you finally look up through wet eyes, he’s just staring at you. Your brother. The only sibling you have left. 

“What did you find?” You finally whisper. And he smiles at you.

**“Lucky is the spouse who dies first, who never has to know what survivors endure.”**

“Uncle Mickey?” 

You look down into Freddie’s big eyes as he stands next to you at the kitchen counter. 

“What’s up, big guy?” 

“Mommy’s crying again.” 

That pain creeps up into your chest again and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to keep the emotions at bay. One, two, three, four. 

Counting helps. It’s a way you’ve been coping when the anxiety gets to be too much. When the memories get to be too much. When you feel like you’re about to crawl out of your skin with fear and sadness and the kind of pain that can lose you breathless and unable to move. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed. It doesn’t matter how many theories you read or if you find God or any of that other bullshit. Pain is pain. And everyone in this house is in pain. 

Pain of losing the father of your child. 

Pain of losing a child. 

Pain of losing a husband. 

Pain of losing family. 

You didn’t have a chance to grieve. At first, you reverted back to your old self; not giving a shit about anyone or anything and drank until you passed out. But one day, you woke up realizing that the house had no food and the electric had been shut off because everyone around you had given up. There was a 3-year-old starving under your roof and as much as you tried to act like you never gave a shit about any of the Gallagher’s but Ian, you knew you had to do something. 

So, you did. 

You had somehow become the one in charge in the house, even though, even if you were married of Ian, it was never really your house. Carl just sat and stared at the wall from the couch. Debbie laid on Frannie's bed crying. Tami couldn't even look at Freddie. It surprises you, because Tami always seemed to be stronger than that, but love is weird sometimes, and you guess you never can tell how much someone really loves another person. Because with Lip gone... 

You’ve gotten closer to Tami over the past few years; connecting over the grief of losing the love of your life. Her relationship with Freddie isn't the best; you wonder if she ever was ready to be a mother; but Debbie is the one who surprises you the most with how she handled losing Frannie. You always wondered about Debbie’s commitment to being a mother; not really winning mother of the year with every bad decision she made; but it took Debbie longer than you come back to the land of the living; no pun intended; around year 3 getting a job and trying to move on as best she could. 

You work construction. It’s the only thing you’re really good at. You could have worked at the Born Free, taking Lip’s old position, but the way Tami looked at you when you brought it up, gave you your answer. You take care of the house and make sure Freddie gets to school and eats breakfast. Tami does hair, sometimes, but mostly she just sits in the trailer and does fuck knows what. 

Carl does nothing. 

He stops being a cop. He doesn't give an explanation. He doesn’t talk about it. He just sits on the couch. You don’t bother him. You get it. Everyone handles grief differently. 

You stay strong during the day and do what you have to do to survive. You didn’t give up. Because Ian would be pissed as fuck if you let this family, or what was left of it, fall apart. You’re doing it for him. Only for him. 

But at night, when everyone is asleep or in their own private places, you cry. You wrap yourself in Ian’s clothes, and sleep on Ian’s side of the bed and you cry yourself to sleep. Debbie is always asking you what you think happened, but to you it doesn’t matter. He’s gone. Their gone. He wasn’t murdered or died from some disease. He was just gone. And there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it. 

You don’t find the point in thinking about the why. If it had been Ian here instead of you, you know he’d want to know why. But you never really cared about the why. The why wouldn’t make anything any different. The why wouldn’t bring anyone back. There was no point. 

This is all there is now. Work. Kid. House. Tears. Sadness. 

Something is wrong in the world now. You can feel it. It’s always felt different since that day, but lately, there’s a weird feeling in the air. Like a buzzing in the atmosphere. Sometimes you think you’re crazy, but you know you feel it. Something isn't right. You don’t know how to explain it to anyone else, but there really isn't anyone to listen. Carl doesn’t speak at all. Debbie is too caught up in trying to move on now that she never wants to even speak about what was again. And Tami...Tami is on such a thin string that you don’t know how to even talk to her anymore. And Kev...as much as you have grown to care about the big lug, doesn’t really see things outside of his box. He still has the Alibi and he’s found a girl he sometimes sees. It’s been 6 years after all. But he talks about V like she’s still here and to be honest, he’s the only one you can talk to about Ian. Kev is sad, no doubt, but there’s still a simple happiness to him when he talks about what was. And sometimes it's comforting to you. Sometimes not. Depends on the day. 

And today was a particularly hard day. It was the anniversary. Schools, banks, post offices all closed. It's some kind of national holiday now like President's day and Easter. It’s sick in a way. And Tami has been locked in the trailer all day crying and Freddie, still doesn't quite understand, after all this time, what all the sadness is about. 

“I know, kid. Mommy just gets sad sometimes.” 

“Because of my Daddy?” 

“Yeah.” 

You take a plate down out of the cabinet so you can feed this confused but soft kid. He reminds you sometimes of Ian. How open he is with his emotions. How, even in the face of sadness and confusion, he still can smile. He can still see the good. It’s something you envied in Ian. And now you get to envy it in Freddie too. 

“You’re sad too.” 

Mickey nods and shuffles them both to the table. He makes him sit and set his food down in front of him and sits next to him. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

“Cause you miss someone.” 

“Yeah. I miss someone.” 

“Everyone misses someone.” 

“Pretty much, kid.” 

“I don’t miss anyone. Is that bad?” 

Mickey feels that pain in his chest again. “You don’t, because you don’t remember.” 

“But you do, right Uncle Mickey?” 

Mickey white knuckles the edge of the table; that weird atmospheric electric current coursing through the earth again. 

“Yeah, kid. I remember everything.”


End file.
